


Taser

by taylor_tut



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Hank Anderson, Seizures, Sickfic, Worried Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 16:51:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16044578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A drabble from my tumblr: Connor is hit with a taser and the electrical surge sends him into the robot equivolent of a seizure.





	Taser

Connor hit the floor the moment that he was hit with the taser, and Hank tackled the cop who wielded it. 

“Fuckin’ stop!” Hank shouted, wrestling the weapon from his hand, “he’s on our side, dumbass!” 

The cop brushed himself off and stood, clearly pissed, but even though he was from a neighboring county and didn’t know anyone specifically, Hank’s reputation preceded him.

“Then why the hell isn’t he wearing his jacket?” the cop asked. Connor had taken it off to go undercover, crudely, unofficially. However, Hank didn’t concern himself with answering questions because Connor had not yet stood up. Instead, he was twitching on the sidewalk. He hit his knees beside the android with a force that he’d surely feel tomorrow.

“Connor,” he called, giving the kid a cautionary, wary touch to make sure he wouldn’t get fuckin’ electrocuted or some shit before tapping his face. It looked like he was seizing, which made some sense, he supposed, since seizures were just inappropriate electrical activity in the brain. Maybe the shock from the taser was enough to press some internal buttons responsible for moving and talking and operating, enough to make him go into what looked so eerily like convulsions. Instinct told him not to move him, but logic said that there was no reason not to—it’s not like he could hurt his spine or anything. So he straightened Connor out to lay him on his side and took his own coat off, folding it into a square which he jammed like a pillow under Connor’s head. 

The twitching continued for about a minute more before he went worryingly still, his LED a solid red.

“Come on, kid,” Hank barked, “wake up; you’re not off the clock yet.” 

In true Connor fashion, that made him open his eyes. 

“Oh, Jesus fuck,” Hank breathed, sitting back heavily and running a hand through his hair. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor asked, blinking confusedly. “Why does everything in me feel… fried?”

Hank couldn’t help but smile at that, but he quickly sobered his expression. “Incompetent cop fuckin’ tased you thinkin’ you were a deviant,” he explained. 

Connor looked normal. His voice was even, his face was its usual color, his hair and clothes were perfect as usual. However, there was an energy to his posture that made Hank uneasy. “You okay, kid?” he asked, and Connor nodded.

“Initial diagnostics reveal no damage that cannot be self-repaired,” he said, almost sourly. Like he was offended he even had take the time to do so. That was fair.

“And how do you feel?”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t, Lieutenant,” he replied automatically, trying to get up. Hank stopped him by clapping a hand over his shoulder. 

“But if you did,” he conjectured, and Connor nodded.

“If I did,” he replied slowly, pensively, “I’d probably feel tired. And sore.”

That was enough for Hank to call it a day.

“Alright then,” he said, helping Connor to his feet, “let’s get you home, then. I’ll drive.” 

Connor simply followed him without a word. 


End file.
